By morning, snow had buried the narrow trail Vesaria had followed the previous evening, leaving her unable to tell which direction she ought to take.
She had spent another miserable night beneath a rocky overhang, huddled inside her cloak while the horses sheltered nearby. Her wet boot had dried just enough to become stiff, and forcing her foot into it had scraped the blister on her heel raw again.
She had eaten the last oatcake for breakfast, saving a little smoked meat and dried fruit for later, although her stomach had protested the meagre portion.
Now the wind drove snow between the trees, catching in her hair and gathering along her cloak.
Vesaria kept her head lowered as she led the stolen horse through the forest, occasionally glancing behind to make certain the black stallion was following.
"Your master ought to have taught you better judgment," she told him when he stopped to shake snow from his mane. "Following strange women into forests is a terrible habit."
The stallion snorted and resumed walking, apparently unimpressed by her advice.
Under better circumstances, she might have enjoyed his company. Instead, the clouds had swallowed the surrounding hills, and the wind swept loose snow across the ground, covering their tracks almost as quickly as they made them.
Perhaps she had been walking in circles. She had imagined reaching the southern border exhausted but triumphant, with enough strength left to knock on a friendly door. Now she would have welcomed even a road she could clearly recognize.
Her uncle's huntsmen would have been horrified by nearly every decision she had made since leaving the settlement, and she could almost hear their patient explanations of everything she ought to have done differently.
The forest gradually gave way to rougher ground, where boulders protruded from the snow and the trees grew farther apart. Vesaria attempted to ride for a while, hoping to spare her aching feet, but her horse stumbled twice on the uneven path, forcing her to dismount.
"Very well," she muttered, gathering the reins. "Apparently we shall all suffer together."
They continued along the slope until the path narrowed between a rocky bank and a steep descent. Vesaria tested the snow with her boot before urging the horse forward, but the animal refused, planting its feet and tossing its head when she tugged gently on the reins. Behind them, the black stallion stopped as well.
"Don't tell me you're both frightened of a little snow."
She ventured another step, and the frozen crust gave way beneath her boot, sending loose stones rattling down the slope. Vesaria hurried backward, remembering the frozen stream and the unpleasant consequences of ignoring the horses' judgment.
A sheltered hollow lay between several boulders behind them. She guided her mount into it and secured its reins around a sturdy pine, leaving enough slack for the animal to lower its head.
"I am only going to look," she informed them, adjusting her cloak. "Try not to get yourselves killed while I'm gone."
She climbed beside the rocks, keeping one hand against the stone for balance. If she could find a passage around the ridge, she might lead the horses through without risking the unstable slope. The wind strengthened as she climbed, blowing snow into her face until she could scarcely see more than a few paces ahead.
Eventually she discovered an opening between two rocky outcrops, wide enough for the horses and sheltered from the worst of the wind.
Perhaps her luck was finally improving.
Near the next bend, another passage branched between the rocks. The ground became uneven, with patches of ice glistening beneath the snow, and she decided against bringing the horses that way.
By the time she turned back, however, the snowfall had thickened.
The passage behind her looked unfamiliar.
Surely she had come through that opening.
She walked several paces uphill, only to find herself facing a wall of stone.
Another gap curved around a boulder, and she followed it, hoping to recognize the hollow where she had left the horses. Instead, the ground dropped sharply into a shallow ravine.
Vesaria stopped, her stomach tightening.
"Wonderful," she muttered, pulling her cloak closer. "Absolutely wonderful."
She turned back, but a violent gust struck her, forcing her against the rocks. Snow swirled around her, obscuring the passage, and she waited with her face buried in her cloak until the worst had passed.
Somewhere behind her, a horse whinnied.
Vesaria lifted her head, straining to hear it again, but the wind swallowed the sound. Perhaps the stallion had wandered away from the hollow. She could only hope he had not persuaded her other horse to accompany him.
Her legs ached as she began climbing toward what she hoped was the original path. The damp boot had become painfully cold again, and she could no longer feel two of her toes.
If she survived this miserable journey, she intended to spend the remainder of her life somewhere warm, preferably beside a fire, and never complain about the Southern summer again.
Ahead, a dark opening appeared beneath an overhanging ledge, promising shelter from the wind. Vesaria hurried toward it, grateful for the prospect of resting somewhere dry, but stopped when something moved inside.
A wolf stood beneath the ledge.
It was lean and grey, with a thick winter coat and a dark stain along one hind leg. Its muzzle hovered over the remains of a small animal, and when Vesaria approached, it raised its head.
Of all the places she might have found shelter, she had managed to choose one occupied by a wolf.
She took a cautious step backward.
The animal growled.
Vesaria stopped immediately, her heart pounding. She had seen wolves before, although never so close or without armed huntsmen nearby.
"I don't want your food," she whispered, keeping her voice low. "You may keep it."
The wolf bared its teeth.
Vesaria retreated carefully, watching the animal while searching for a way around the rocks. The passage behind her was narrow, and the ground sloped toward the ravine.
She dared not turn and run, but the wolf had begun following her, its head lowered and its attention fixed upon her.
Her boot slid over ice concealed beneath the snow.
She lost her footing, striking her knee against the ground before her ankle twisted painfully beneath her. Vesaria cried out, catching herself against the rock as loose stones tumbled down the slope.
The wolf advanced.
She snatched up a loose stone and raised it with both hands, her damp gloves slipping against its rough surface. "Stay back!" she shouted, struggling to push herself upright, but her ankle buckled, sending her heavily against the rock.
The animal lowered its head, and she tightened her grip on the stone, wondering whether she could strike it hard enough to drive the creature away.
A sudden crash sounded behind her.
Vesaria flinched as something large forced its way through the opening between the rocks, sending snow tumbling from the ledge.
The wolf turned sharply, its growl rising into a snarl, and she twisted around just as a familiar black shape emerged through the swirling white.
Azgar's stallion again!
He stood several paces behind her, his ears flattened and nostrils flaring as he regarded the wolf. His reins dragged across the stones, and the wind whipped his dark mane against his neck.
"What are you doing here?" Vesaria whispered.
The wolf snarled and darted toward the stallion's flank.
The great horse recoiled, then wheeled away, lashing out with his hind legs. One hoof caught the wolf across its ribs, sending it tumbling against the rocks.
Vesaria cried out as the stallion scrambled backward, his hooves scraping against the frozen ground. The wolf struggled upright, staggering on its injured leg, while the horse retreated toward the passage, snorting violently.
"Go on!" Vesaria shouted at him, terrified the wolf might attack again. "Get away!"
The stallion backed farther into the opening, his ears still pinned, and for a moment she thought he might finally flee.
Instead, the wolf turned toward her.
She searched desperately for the stone she had dropped during the commotion, finding it half buried in the snow just beyond her reach.
The animal approached unsteadily, its injured leg dragging beneath it, and Vesaria stretched toward the stone, wincing as pain shot through her ankle.
Her fingers closed around its rough edge, and she dragged it toward herself. "Please," she whispered, struggling to lift it. "Just leave me alone."
The wolf lowered its head, its teeth showing beneath curled lips. Vesaria raised the stone, although her arms trembled so badly that she doubted she could strike with much force.
Somewhere behind her, the stallion moved restlessly among the rocks, but she dared not look away from the creature advancing toward her.
It gathered itself to spring.
Vesaria threw her arms over her face.
Something whistled through the air.
The wolf gave a sharp yelp and twisted violently, an arrow protruding from its shoulder. It struck the ground scarcely an arm's length from her, snapping at the shaft as it struggled to regain its footing.
Vesaria scrambled backward, pressing herself against the rock while snow blew into her eyes. She could hear the animal snarling, its claws scraping against the stones, but could scarcely distinguish its movements through the swirling white.
A second arrow struck it in the chest.
The wolf collapsed.
For several moments, Vesaria remained where she was, her arms still raised and her breath coming in painful gasps. She stared at the animal, waiting for it to rise, but it lay motionless beneath the ledge.
Then she heard footsteps.
Vesaria lifted her head toward the open end of the passage. A man stood on a low shelf of rock above her, his bow still raised and his dark cloak whipping around his legs.
Snow clung to his shoulders and beard as he lowered the weapon, his gaze moving from the fallen wolf to where she sat against the rocks.
Vesaria recognized him immediately.
Varn.
Her fingers tightened against the frozen ground as he began descending toward her.
Four days of running, and Azgar's man had finally caught her.